by Mark Tilbury
‘I’ve waited a long time for this moment, Tommy. Even dreamed of it a few times. Some of them wet! I do hope you’re ready.’
Tommy twisted his head round. Saw Dean, albeit through a blurry haze. ‘I… don’t… understand.’
‘You will, Tommy. You most certainly will.’
‘But—’
‘Hush little baby, don’t say a word. You need to put on your listening ears for a while, okay?’
‘I… I…’
‘Are you lying comfortably, Tommy?’
‘What the fuck…?’
Dean slapped him across the face. ‘What did I tell you about interruptions? One more time, and I’m gonna bite your dick off.’
Tommy turned his head the other way. Clamped his tongue between his teeth to stop it betraying him again.
Dean stomped to the other side of the bed. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever taught you it’s rude to look away when someone’s talking to you? Still, it’s no more than I’d expect from an uneducated fool such as yourself.’
Tommy tried to focus on the pain ripping through his body. Lose himself in its intensity. It was beyond his comprehension to equate this madman with the guy who’d dated his sister. The man who’d seemed so full of compassion and concern for his welfare. But, of course, everything in the crazy world was a lie. A big fat fucking lie.
‘Sit up. I want you to look at me properly.’
Tommy tried to move. His shoulders cracked, and pain erupted in his ribcage.
‘Do it!’
‘I can’t.’
Dean stepped closer to the bed, grabbed Tommy’s hair, and hauled him up.
Tommy screamed. A fresh wave of pain seared through his tortured body.
Dean shoved his head against the headboard hard enough to shake the bed and rattle the chains.
‘That’s better. Now look at me, or I’ll take out your eyes with a corkscrew.’
Tommy did his best to make eye contact, but it was virtually impossible through his tears.
‘You really are a poor excuse for a human being. Where’re your balls? No, don’t tell me, they’re probably in your brain. No wonder with parents like yours. Is your father retarded?’
Fuck you.
‘He’s more wooden than a bloody forest. Has he ever said anything remotely interesting? Or does he bore everyone to death who comes within ten feet of him?’
He’s a thousand times the person you’ll ever be. Even on a bad day.
‘As for that stupid moustache. Jesus Christ, I thought they went out of fashion fifty years ago. But, credit where it’s due, he did at least spring into action when you had your little outburst and held a knife to my throat.’
I wish I’d fuckin’ used it.
‘Do you think I should pay you back, Tommy. I mean, you could’ve done some serious damage. Killed me, even.’
‘I’m… sorry.’
Dean grinned. ‘How sorry?’
‘I didn’t know what I was doing.’
‘Ah, that old chestnut. Sorry to disappoint you, but this court doesn’t recognise that particular get-out-of-jail-free-card. You’ll have to do better than that.’
Tommy gave up. What was the point? He was fucked no matter what he said.
‘The good news is, I’m not one to hold a grudge. I like to let bygones be bygones. Start over with a clean slate.’
Tommy turned away.
‘I’ll tell you something for free, Tommy. Your mum’s not a bad-looking woman. Wouldn’t have minded giving her one myself.’
‘Who… are… you?’
Dean laughed. ‘Stop asking dumb questions. Even your buggered-up brain must’ve worked that one out by now. Right, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh, yeah, assessing the Scarletts. That modern little family who live in a modern little house on a modern little street. Two-point-two kids and all that crap. God, people like you make me sick. I’ll bet Mummy and Daddy even have a mug of cocoa and go to bed at the same time every night.’
Tommy didn’t think his parents would be going to bed at all after this latest catastrophe.
‘Then there’s darling Danielle, with her multi-coloured hair and drab personality. It’s true what they say about the dullest people trying to appear the brightest. Same as the dumbest idiots always shouting the loudest. I suppose you could call it ironic. Or is that moronic?’
You should fuckin’ know.
‘I hope The Master understands how much effort I had to put into dating that old scrubber. How many times I had to force myself to kiss her ashtray breath and listen to her rambling on about her precious brother. You wanna know a secret, Tommy? She likes doing it outside. Says the thought of getting caught turns her on. What d’you think of that?’
Tommy tried his damndest not to listen.
‘Course, I had to find excuses not to fuck her. Bit like your mum probably does with Charlie.’
He’s trying to wind you up. Ignore him.
‘So there it is, Tommy. I suppose everyone has their cross to bear, and your sister was mine. But I’m not complaining. Sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do. But, I don’t mind telling you, it’s gonna take a lot of showers to wash the stench of that bitch out of my hair.’
Tommy stared at the wall. Imagined ramming Dean’s head against it until his brain was smashed to pieces. Shut the bastard up forever.
Dean stepped back and removed his wig. His bald head glistened beneath the overhead lights.
Tommy gawped at him, mouth hanging open, heart racing. This was like a nightmare within a nightmare.
Dean slowly removed his clothes, dancing provocatively, and tossing them over his shoulder like some warped striptease artist. He stood naked before the bed, thrusting his pelvis and gyrating.
Tommy belched bile. Swallowed it. Gagged.
‘Like what you see, Tommy? Wanna little piece of Dean before he leaves?’
‘I—’
He turned around. ‘I’ll be back soon, Sweetlips. Don’t go away.’
Tommy watched him go, bum wiggling as he strutted across the floor. He waited for the door to close, leaned forward, and slammed his head back against the headboard as hard as he could. Again and again, opening the wound on his recently fractured skull.
It took eight massive blows to finally knock him unconscious. But the temporary respite would only be brief. Far too brief.
Chapter Forty-One
One hour later, the woman sat cross-legged on the floor in the dark, silent room. Her mind was blank. Her heart no longer beat with the rhythm of life. She had no future, no past. Only this one timeless moment. Her body was completely numb.
Her breathing was steady. Neither shallow nor deep. In and out. Inhaling purified air, exhaling toxins. Cleansing her spirit and washing away all unwanted thoughts.
‘I am… I am… I am,’ she whispered. ‘I am the universe, the universe is I.’ Although spoken aloud, these words did not come from conscious thought. The source of this information was not known to her. It was just there, like the moon, the sun, and the stars. Everything belonged to eternity, and the universe guarded its secrets well.
A light came on above her, revealing her naked body in its harsh glare. At first, it seemed as if someone had set her mind on fire and illuminated her darkest thoughts. But she remained motionless, unaware of her surroundings or her nude body.
Music crackled into life through the speakers set in the ceiling. Karma Chameleon. Boy George’s sultry voice delivering the lyrics with perfect pitch.
The woman didn’t so much hear the music; it flowed into her heart. Every word and every beat resonating on a subconscious level. The melody and rhythm pumped from her heart and into her veins. Carried right up into her previously idling brain.
‘The colour of love,’ she whispered. ‘The colour of love is… black, black, black.’
As the song faded, she opened her eyes. Waited for them to adjust to the blinding white light. She was now entering a higher state of consciousness. A place where n
o one could hurt her.
Safe now. Safe forever. She was in a better place. High above the hurt and the lies of her past.
The door opened. The Master walked in carrying a large brown bag. He stood before her. ‘Hello, Bella. How are you?’
She was suddenly overcome by a sudden urge to kneel and smother his feet with a thousand kisses. She owed her life to him, and she’d serve him without question until her dying day.
‘I trust you had a safe journey?’ he said.
‘Yes, Master.’
‘It’s good to have you back.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ve missed you, Bella.’
Tears filled her eyes. She hated time spent apart from The Master. ‘I’ve missed you, too. Where have I been?’
‘It doesn’t matter. The journey’s not important. Let’s just say you’ve been on a special mission to bring home Number Nine.’
‘Was it successful?’
‘Yes, Bella. Very successful.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In the basement.’
Bella wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘Can I see him?’
He handed her the bag. ‘Soon, my love. Soon. But first I want you to get dressed before you catch a chill.’
Bella peered inside the bag. Grinned. Her favourite red dress, black stilettoes, and a blonde wig. Nestling in the bottom of the bag, a black watch with a plastic strap. She pulled it out. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s Number Nine’s watch. I thought you might like to keep it. Something to remember him by on those long cold nights when he’s nothing but a distant memory.’
‘Thank you. I’ll treasure it forever.’
‘You may get up now, Bella.’
She fought against the stiffness in her joints and stood. Pulled out the dress and held it close to her body. It was so pretty. No, not pretty. Sexy and seductive. All the things a young woman with a voracious appetite for sex could ever want from an item of clothing. Naturally, sex wasn’t all about window shopping; if the goods inside didn’t live up to expectations, you might as well wear a sack cloth and be done with it.
‘Red really enhances your natural beauty,’ Duggan said. ‘Hints at the fires burning within you.’
Bella’s cheeks did their best to match the dress. ‘You’re just saying that, Master.’
He stepped closer and took Bella’s penis in his hand. Stroked it. ‘I’m a lot of things, my dear, but I’m not prone to undue flattery. You’re a beautiful woman, and I bless the day you came into my life.’
Bella’s penis grew in The Master’s hand as he caressed it with expert fingers.
‘You can come to my bed tonight, Bella.’
‘Thank you, Master.’
‘We’ll make love. Get rid of the tension in your body.’
‘I’d like that.’
He let go of her penis. ‘Good. Now, because you’ve been such a good girl, you can go pay a visit to Number Nine after you’ve dressed. I’m sure he’s dying to see you again.’
Bella laughed. ‘I’m sure he is, Master. I’m sure he is.’
***
Bella emptied a large jug of cold water laced with bleach over Tommy’s head.
He spluttered back to life, shaking and coughing. Head thumping, he squinted at an ill-defined red blob standing beside the bed.
‘Hello, Number Nine. It’s good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever have the pleasure of talking to you again.’
The sound of Bella’s voice poured ice on his heart. He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond. Red blotches marked his face.
‘Don’t look so mortified. Anyone would think you didn’t want to see me. And that’s not true. You’ve always had a schoolboy crush on me, haven’t you?’
Tommy licked water off his lips. Tasted bleach. Pushed his head back against the headboard.
‘I realise this probably isn’t the homecoming you were expecting. No banners and tables laden with goodies. But don’t worry, Number Nine, we’ve got a nice surprise lined up for you. Bet you can’t guess what it is?’
Tommy tried to look away from those mocking blue eyes, but it was as if they had hypnotic powers.
She brushed hair out of her eyes. ‘Any idea?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Number Nine! Wash your mouth out with soap. Foul language isn’t tolerated at Thorndike House. Just because you’ve woken up a grumpy old bear, doesn’t mean you have to talk like that. What would your mother say?’
Tommy retched.
‘I think she’d smack your naughty little bottom with a wooden spoon.’
And I reckon she’d gouge out your fuckin’ eyes if she had half a chance.
‘Don’t feel so sorry for yourself, Number Nine. You’re not the only person on the planet who’s had a bumpy ride. In fact, you’ve had a pretty charmed life up until now. I know you suffered a few cuts and bruises after throwing yourself out of the car, but you’ve only got yourself to blame for that. Why you even thought it was a good idea is beyond me. Did you think you had some sort of superpower? Been watching too many Spider-Man films when you were growing up?’
Tommy stifled a sob, determined not to give the bitch any satisfaction.
‘You know what they say, Number Nine? A fool and his life are easily parted. Especially a mollycoddled fool like you. Some of us have had to fight every inch of the way to get on in life. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be abandoned?’
Tommy shook his head. Closed his eyes. It was obvious Bella was Dean. Same eyes. Same lips. Same voice, albeit now slightly more feminine. The only thing separating them was a blonde wig, a dress, and fake boobs. Why hadn’t he noticed the similarities before? How could he have been so blind?
‘No, of course you don’t. You had parents who gave you everything. A sister who doted on you. But, you threw it all away like a spoilt little brat, didn’t you?’
Tommy didn’t need anyone to tell him that. Least of all this deranged psychopath.
‘My parents died when I was eight years old, Number Nine. Killed in a car crash. One minute my life was chugging along nicely, next thing, BAM!’ He thumped the headboard. ‘All gone. Taken away by some idiot foreign lorry driver who pulled out into the middle lane of the motorway without looking properly. The police said he didn’t see my parents because he had a blind spot on his mirror. Does that sound fair to you?’
Shame you weren’t in the car with them.
‘The world can be a dark place when it wants to be. Very dark indeed. But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. I went to live with Granny Meredith. I can’t remember much about her, other than she lived by the sea and she had a black Labrador called Murphy. I loved that dog. He was the first real friend I ever had. Do you like dogs?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Dogs are everything humans aren’t. Loyal. Trustworthy. Always there for you. I used to take him for walks along the beach. Sometimes we’d go up the steps to the cliff top and look out over the ocean. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the seagulls crying and the crash of the waves against the rocks.
‘All in all, I was happy living with Granny Meredith. But she got sick when I was twelve, and I had to go into a kids’ home for a while. I’ll tell you this for free, Number Nine, it’s worse than anything you could ever imagine. No privacy. Bastards watching your every move. Told when to get up and when to go to bed. Disgusting food even pigs wouldn’t eat.
‘So, I ran away two days after my thirteenth birthday. Packed a few bits in a bag, left for school in the morning, and never returned. I didn’t have a clue where I was going, but it didn’t matter. Living on the streets couldn’t be no worse than being in that shithole.’
My fuckin’ heart bleeds for you.
‘Is that what you were planning when you got the hump and stormed outta the house? Living rough. Begging for scraps?’
‘I dunno what I wanted.’
‘All over a hairdryer, you pampered little prick. Do you know how that makes
you look?’
Tommy did. Only too well.
‘I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you. I mean, what’s a boy to do when he can’t get his hair dry? Ever heard of a towel, fuckwit?’
Tommy stared down at his thin, naked body. His ribs poking through the bone-white skin. Chest barely rising and falling with each rasping breath.
‘I spent over six months on the streets before I met The Master. Turning tricks for fat, sweaty men. Scraping by. Doing things no one should ever have to do. They say everyone has a turning point in their lives, and The Master was mine. He took me in and gave me a new life. One with purpose and meaning. A place I could finally call home.’
So, you lured kids back here to do the very thing you escaped from? Jesus Christ, if it wasn’t so serious, it’d be funny.
‘The Master allowed me to be the person I’d always wanted to be. In control of my own destiny. Free to explore all the things I wanted to. Liberated from the outside world, which is really a giant prison inhabited by slaves. The best years of your life spent sitting in some boring classroom being indoctrinated into their system. How’s that for a childhood, Number Nine? Pretty fuckin’ shit from where I’m standing.
‘But be under no illusion. I will do anything The Master asks of me. And I mean anything.’ She turned around and flounced across the basement, stilettoes ticking on the tiled floor.
Tommy waited for the door to close and sobbed uncontrollably until he passed out through sheer exhaustion.
Chapter Forty-Two
Danielle stood by the conservatory door and lit her third cigarette in fifteen minutes. Tommy had now been missing for two days, and with each passing hour, her hope of ever finding her brother alive faded further. She didn’t know which was worse: not knowing, or getting bad news. Either way, her imagination did its best to fill in the blanks and torture her.
Her father was out in his car searching for Tommy again. Danielle thought he was wasting his time, but at least it gave him something positive to do. Anything was better than sitting at home waiting for a bloody miracle.
